Daydream Believer
by luvscharlie
Summary: Lily has fantasies that most people wouldn't understand. The object of her affection is a secret that she plans to keep all for herself… since she's sure nobody else could comprehend the attraction. Bill/Lily


Daydream Believer by Luvscharlie

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Warnings: Chan (Lily is 14), fantasy sex, incest (it was written for an incest fest), age disparity

A/N: This one was a true challenge, but I'm ultimately pleased with how it turned out. It was written for a specific exchange request at hp_cestfest, so clearly it wasn't what I wanted to write that mattered, it was what someone else wanted for their gift. Thus, I stretched outside my comfort zone in writing this.

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It's said that most little girls aspire to grow up and marry their father, and most people might think that with a father like Harry Potter, well, what little girl doesn't want to marry him? His own, that's who.

Lily Potter certainly had a crush. (Merlin, how she hated that terminology, it made her sound like such a child—and damn it she wasn't! She was fourteen, an honest-to-goodness teenager now!) Her crush was on someone that was completely and totally wrong and absolutely twisted, well, if you listened to what most people believed—not that she did… ever. Listening wasn't one of her stronger attributes. Her mum said it came with being that "dreaded fourteen", but what she did know? Still, Lily knew a girl shouldn't be having completely erotic, breathtaking, mind-blowing, wrong, wrong, wrong dreams about her uncle. She just shouldn't, right? _Right?_

Except she totally was. Every single night.

Of course, most girls didn't have this problem because most girls didn't have Bill Weasley as their uncle. And it was based on that fact alone, that Lily thought she deserved a pass when it came to being judged on morality. Seriously, only so much could be expected of a girl, and not noticing the rugged, feral, oh-my-gods-to-die-for-good-looks of her Uncle Bill simply went beyond that realm of expectations. He was swoon-worthy. Utterly rugged and roguish and every one of those descriptors that she read in every Muggle romance novel she could get her hands on. In fact, those were forbidden reading material in her house (might give a girl unrealistic expectations, or so said her mother), and she had to hide them under her mattress, so that it was beginning to hurt her back there were so many lumps from her treasure of paperbacks. Thankfully, back at Hogwarts, she could keep them where she wanted… in fact the girls in her dorm did a good deal of passing those books around.

Lily continued to hear over and over and over again at school, how cool her dad was, and how lucky she was, and what must it be like to be Harry Potter's child. Frankly, he was just her dad and she never noticed him one way or the other. Except that because of him, everyone constantly knew who she was, even when she most wanted to fade into the background and not be noticed. He wasn't super fabulous or debonair. (_Like the word? Who said you couldn't learn anything from romance novels?_) Sure, the scar was kind of neatly shaped, if you were head over heels for lightning bolts—which she wasn't. But other than that, he was simply Dad.

Lily had no interest in boys her own age. They were childish and immature, most still retaining a bit of the chubbiness of youth. They weren't _worldly_ like she was. They hadn't read all the books she had, been to those places in her imagination, or experienced the worldliness of _real_ men. In fact, it was a stretch to call them civilised, and those class farting contests were… well, certainly not attractive.

Lily was only interested in _real_ men, not these little imitations that had yet to grow up.

But it was sexy Uncle Bill who crept stealthily into her dreams at night… every night.

She would no sooner close the scarlet curtains of her four-poster bed, dip down beneath the soft, fresh linens, and close her eyes… and there he would be. A smile turning up the corner of his scar-covered face. She'd seen pictures and heard her mum talk about how handsome her older brother once was—pish, sure he was handsome before. Quite the looker, in fact. But that was nothing compared to Uncle Bill's rugged appeal now. The scars only added to his handsomeness. They gave him character. He looked dangerous, forbidden, and all of that only made Lily desire him more. She'd seen him working out in Nana's back garden with his shirt off the last time she was home on summer hols, and the tattoo of the scarab on his upper left chest haunted her. She wanted to touch it, trace her fingers over every darkened line, then trail those same fingers down over the hard contours of Bill's stomach, and… her breath hitched at the thoughts.

Lily snuggled down deeper beneath the covers of her bed, desperate to be with him in the one place that no one else could judge her. The one place she could touch Bill at leisure. But it was frustrating. She always seemed to wake up right before she got to the good part. There was never any completion; it was always just out of her reach, a _something_ that she felt certain would rival her own solo attempts, even if she wasn't quite sure what to expect from it.

So tonight Lily had a plan to make it to that ultimate (certainly mind blowing if her imagination was anywhere close to reality) conclusion. She was _not_ going to wake up before climax, and to aid in her attempts at drifting into her fantasy, she tore open the package of a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Patented Daydream Charm with her teeth and slipped the small dissolving pellet it contained beneath her tongue. She'd had to nick this from Uncle George's shop the last time she was there, as there had been some legislation before the Wizengamot recently requiring that these "objects of youthful lust" not be sold to witches or wizards under the age of seventeen. And her mother had specifically forbidden that any of her children use them, threatening George should they get hold of them somehow.

But this fantasy was important, so Lily hadn't batted an eye when she'd slid the packet beneath her robes, during a shopping trip to Diagon Alley… and tonight was just the night to use it.

So without further hesitation, and a great deal of excitement, Lily closed her eyes…

The beauty of dreams, even charm-assisted ones, is that they have no true beginning. It's what Lily loved most about them. No awkward lead up, no bumbling conversation, and no boring background to be laid that was a must in her books, it seemed, not that she always read all of that, mind. Most times she skipped right to the juicy parts. Still, none of that was necessary when she closed her eyes; no lead-ins, no boring introductions, just straight to the best of it—instant gratification, just the way she liked it.

Bill approached her with a smile that twisted the side of his face which bore the most serious of his scars in a way that some might find disturbing. It made Lily's heartbeat quicken with excitement. _Wow, this charm really did work._ This felt far more real than any of her previous fantasies. And Bill—oh, how divine Bill looked.

"I wondered where you were." Bill said.

"You were waiting for me?" she asked surprised.

"Your dream, isn't it? I hardly expected anyone else."

_Fair enough._ She felt a bit foolish after that. "Where are we?" Lily asked, looking around at the rich fabrics draped down from the ceiling over the walls, the foggy look of the place. There was a large satin covered bed in the centre of the room.

Bill lay down on the bed, reclining on his elbows, and Lily noted that his feet were bare, his denims fit his form like a glove, and his shirt was half-buttoned, his tattoo that she so longed to explore, barely peeking out. His hair was free from its usual binding and it spread over his shoulders in a cascade of red with just a hint of silver intertwining with the ginger locks. "So," Bill said, smiling up at her and then patting the bed. "I assume you've brought me here for a reason. Shall we get on with it then?"

"What? No lectures, no 'Lily, this is wrong,' no—"

"We're wasting time, you know. These charms don't last forever. If you'd like to spend it listening to a lecture, well, I'd be happy to oblige, you know, if that's what turns you on—that's what I'm here for, after all, to do what you wish, but considering all the things Charlie and I did back at school—well, I'd be a bit of a hypocrite to do a lot of lecturing."

"You and Uncle Charlie did _that_? Together?" Lily asked, aghast at this revelation.

"OI! NO! Not _together_, together. Merlin, girl, I'm a married man. I don't like blokes. Particularly muscle-bound idiots with—well, he is rather well built and—Just never you mind that! That's not the point… at all. I mean, we had our share of trysts with older women back during the day, and oh, the fantasies. We had ourselves some fabulously amazing bits of fancy in those dreams." Bill seemed to stare off, lost in thoughts of his younger, wilder days. "But…" he said, reining in his attention, "it seems that it's your turn, Young Lily, for some fantasies of your own. Kind of honoured, if the truth be known, to know that I figure into them." Bill's hand rubbed across the scars on his face. "Especially now."

And then, as dreams were want to do, Lily found herself beside him on the bed. She had no recollection of closing the space between them. She was simply there. Her hand found the fabric of Bill's shirt and she pushed it open a bit more. "May I touch it?" she asked, her hand hovering over the scarab on his chest.

"Of course," he replied, and he drew in a breath when her fingers made contact with his skin.

"When did you get it?" Lily asked.

"Ah, that," Bill said with a chuckle, seeming to remember his younger days with fondness. "Well, Charlie and I had gotten quite pissed on a bottle of Old Ogden's when I was back in Egypt and he was visiting. Oh, I remember that hangover and it was dreadful, but I woke up with this earring," he said, fingering the dragon fang that dangled from his ear, "and your Uncle Charlie had a pink butterfly inked on his arse."

"A pink butterfly?" Lily gasped out in astonishment. "Is this real or is it just my own imagination working the charm to say that, Uncle Bill?"

Bill gave her a sly wink that heated up her flesh nicely before goose bumps prickled on her arms. "I guess you'll just have to ask Charlie next time you see him, won't you?"

"OH! You're just having me on!" Lily balled up her fist and punched Bill in the shoulder playfully. She gasped when he grabbed hold her of her fist and held it tight in his large hands. He applied pressure and spread out her fingers then began to stroke his thumb over the palm of her hand. Lily breathed deep at the contact and shivered.

"You have such small hands. So tiny and delicate—perfect really." And then Bill took her first two fingers between his lips and sucked them, twirling his tongue deliciously around and between them.

Closing her eyes in ecstasy, Lily revelled in the newfound sensation of Bill's tongue on her skin. Dreams were one thing. You could dream anything your heart desired, and watch it like the most perverse of moving picture shows. But this—this was so real that she could _feel_ the most amazing of sensations. Every light lick of Bill's tongue, working its way between her fingers sent jolts directly to her centre. "Mmmm," she groaned.

"You like that, then?"

"Mmmm, very much," Lily replied. She opened her eyes to find Bill's shirt was gone and his tattoo was fully on display. She reached forward a tentative hand, reminded herself that this was _her_ fantasy and gained a bit of confidence. Her fingertips traced down the outline of the scarab to just above Bill's nipple.

When she'd fully explored his tattoo, fingers having traced every line, Bill grasped the back of Lily's neck firmly and pulled her forward. "I think you brought me here for reasons other than to inspect my tattoo, yeah?" he whispered.

She nodded, a bit awed at the proximity of his closeness, and then his lips closed over hers, swallowing down her gasp of surprise, and Lily lost herself in the expertise of his tongue exploring her mouth. They broke apart, breathless, and Bill's hand cupped her cheek. "That more of what you had in mind, love?"

Lily couldn't find a voice to respond. She simply nodded and Bill took his cue to kiss her again…

… And it was—there just was no word for how absolutely heavenly, or how positively divine, Uncle Bill's kisses were. She arched her back into him, her breasts pressing into his bare chest. Lily was surprised to find herself in a sheer, extremely sexy nightgown. It was something far too old for her, so that her mother would never have allowed her to buy it. But here, in her dreams, she looked so sophisticated, sexy and grown up, and she warmed noticeably when Uncle Bill looked her up and down with appreciation.

"Look at you," he said. "Not a little girl anymore, Lil."

_Finally, someone saw her for the mature young woman she was! It was going to be a real bitch when this charm wore off and things went back to "normal"! And no telling when she'd get a chance to nick another from Uncle George's shop._

She pressed on in her fantasy. "Fucking right I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm a woman now. See," she said, motioning down her body. She was a bit horrified to find that her gown was gone. (Okay, this fantasy was moving a bit fast!) She was there in all her naked glory watching her uncle lick his lips.

"Tsk, tsk, such language. But I like it… very much," Bill said, his voice going from scolding to breathy just like she imagined those heroes in her romance novels would talk when they were about to bed their lady fair. "Come here," he said, acting out her deepest fantasy. "I should do something about that filthy mouth of yours."

Lily crawled over to him across the bed on her hands and knees. She shrieked in surprise when Bill grabbed hold of her and flipped her to her back, following her down and pressing her into the mattress with the weight of his body.

"Now, whatever should I do with you, all-grown-up Lily?" His tone was mocking, but she didn't care. Not when his hands found her breasts and he began to squeeze and caress them expertly, pinching at her nipples. It felt fabulous, better than any feeling she'd ever felt before. The charm let her feel it all, the warmth from Bill's fingers, and then his mouth closed over one pert nipple, sucking her into his mouth, and Lily's back arched off the bed with a cry of pleasure.

"Oh, fuck. _Yes!_ Fuck yes," Lily moaned. She squeaked in surprise when in an instant she was on her stomach and Bill's hand came down sharply on her bum. "Eeek!"

"Can't have you talking like a common slag, young lady." Bill's hand came down again, and Lily felt the moisture between her thighs increase by two fold at the contact. "I know for a fact that you were raised better than that."

She might have protested this childish treatment if it weren't so exciting to have Bill's hands on her bum. And then he was crawling over her back, his knees wedging their way between her thighs, and all thoughts of protestation left her immediately. She simply wanted more… so much more.

Bill's tongue traced its way up Lily's spinal column as she shuddered and ground down against his knee. Then his teeth nipped her shoulder and his breath was hot against her ear…

Then in that flash of dreamlike wonder, that was the magic of the charm, Lily was on her back and Bill's fingers were on her thighs, pressing in, urging them to part. His breath was warm against her sex as he exhaled. His lips brushed the inside of her thigh, and his finger stroked down her slick slit. His tongue curled seductively, and he pressed forward, fingers spreading her open to him, and just as his mouth was about to claim her—the room went fuzzy and began to shake.

"Uh-oh," Bill said. "It seems my time is up, darling. I have to—"

"No, Uncle Bill, don't go—please don't—" But before she could complete the sentence she was waking up in her own bed at Hogwarts.

"Well, fuck," she said under her breath, then punched her pillow good and hard.

* * *

In the Owlery the next day, Lily unrolled her parchment to give her letter another read before sending it off.

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

As a frequent patron of your shop (a grown up one, of course, 'cause I wouldn't be writing this letter otherwise), Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, I'd like to take the opportunity to lodge a complaint. Your Patented Daydream Charms are quite nice—except they have one problem. A rather serious one, I think. THEY DON'T FUCKING LAST LONG ENOUGH.

One Very Pissed Off and Unsatisfied (in every way) Customer


End file.
